


i broke your heart so carelessly (but made the pieces part of me)

by ava5500



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26566669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava5500/pseuds/ava5500
Summary: maybe April and Sterling will find their way back to each other, two years later.it's all either of them wants, after all.
Relationships: April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 267





	i broke your heart so carelessly (but made the pieces part of me)

You know that April is watching you.

She always has been, really. You wonder if she knows that you know, or if she’s under the impression that she manages to be subtle. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like you can call her out – it’s been two years since the lock in, and you two haven’t really been on speaking terms since.

It cracks your heart, just a little. Every time you feel those green eyes on you, from across the room. You always know when she’s staring at you – the hairs on the back on your neck stand up, and a familiar, yet almost forgotten energy buzzes through you.

She’s watching you. It’s not a surprise. But this time, you wish she wouldn’t. For both of your sakes.

Because there’s a girl, now. A girl who isn’t April. A girl who is from that alt clique that you once tried to join, a million years ago, and she has tattoos on her arms and streaks of pink in her hair. She’s encapsulated by feminist theories and extreme political views, but you like her, enough. She’s sweet to you.

She’ll hold your hand. Right here, at Miles’s party that celebrates the graduation that’s now within reach for all of you. She’ll hold your hand and glare at anyone who looks at you two with anything other than open admiration.

Including April.

“Hey, babe, what’s that chick’s problem? She’s been staring at us like, all night. Is she a homophobe? I think she was in that stupid fucking Straight Straight alliance.”

Your eyes wander over to the girl you always try to avoid looking at, but never quite manage. April is in the corner, with Hannah B and Ezequiel, a red solo cup clasped in her hands. Good for her – you never thought you’d see April drink. Maybe people do change.

But her green eyes grow soft when you make eye contact with her, a blush spreading across her cheeks when she’s caught looking. As if you couldn’t catch her looking every goddamn day of the week, if you wanted to.

She looks – she looks the same. The low light of the party (masterfully done by Miles and Blair) bathes her in a soft glow that makes your heart beat more painfully. Her hair is down, falling into her face, and she pushes it back without ever looking away. Her eyes are soft, but they have that signature April challenge to them. She seems to say:

_So this is my replacement. Does she measure up?_

You can’t keep holding her gaze. You look away, biting your lip, trying to compartmentalize all the memories that come rushing back after just one look.

_April’s arm on yours. April admitting who she is, why she’s not ashamed. April in the back of your car, with an intensity you haven't encountered since._

You blink and turn back to your girlfriend. “She’s an old friend, I guess. Just ignore her. She doesn’t mean any harm.”

Your girlfriend eyes April wearily, then leans in to give you a peck on the lips for good measure. She thinks she’s sticking it to the homophobes, but you wince internally. You can practically feel April’s gaze shift away at the display of affection, and your chest aches for her. For what could have been.

You leave the party early, with your girlfriend. April had left ages before you even do, and you overhear her claim fatigue. Your eyes trace her as she walks out the front door, but she doesn’t spare a look back.

Maybe you watch April just as much as she watches you.

And the girl takes you back to her place, where her parents are fine with her bringing you up to her room.

You half wish they weren’t. The girl is great, and sweet, but every time you do anything with her, you can’t help but notice how short it falls. In comparison to just one time with April, two years ago. There’s no fire, no urgency, and she’s so, _so_ gentle. You have to ask her to leave a mark, and she raises her eyebrows at you, like, _why_? She probably thinks that small hickey on your neck is proof of your submission to the patriarchy, or something.

(You have the decency to feel guilty, about how inwardly, your thoughts wander to April as the girl’s lips attach to your neck. How you slip into a fantasy of April’s teeth dragging across your collarbone, April scratching her nails into your hair, claiming you in the way you _know_ she wants to.)

After, when you’re curled up against the girl, you feel the tears fall. It still happens, probably once a month or so. You don’t know how to stop it. It’s been two years – if you could stop it, you would’ve by now.

***

“And that’s why we should always put our faith in the Lord first. Humans are flawed. That’s just how we are. Putting all of your wellbeing into one person – it never turns out well. Put your faith in the Lord first, and he’ll never let you down.” April shuffles her papers, indicating that she’s finished speaking.

You clap politely after April’s speech, but it’s drowned out by Ellen, who squeals in delight and leaps to her feet.

“That was, beautiful, April! Sophomores, say thank you to our Senior Fellowship Leader! Listen to what she has to say, kids! She’s wise beyond her years!”

April takes the praise with a half-smile, returning to her seat across the room. Blair rolls her eyes and mutters something in your ear, but you’re distracted. You have been the entire speech. April is wearing a blazer and slacks, and it _does_ something to you.

You wonder if your plaid skirt and button up that shows your collarbone do anything to her.

The Fellowship meeting ends, and the students start to filter out, ready to go home after a long day. You follow suit, wandering down the hall a few steps behind Blair, who’s engrossed in conversation with Jennings. They may not have worked out as a couple, but they both pride themselves in being the coolest Seniors at Willingham.

The pull on your forearm is unexpected. You know who it is, immediately – the shivers that run from your forearm to your spine then _down_ have been the subject of many private thoughts over the years. You whirl around to meet April’s gaze, which is harder than you’ve seen it in a long time.

She drags you back into the Fellowship room, now empty. You don’t have it in you to fight her – it’s been so long since she talked to you. So long since she touched you, and your body responds before you can stop it.

“Sterling.” Her voice is rough around the edges, but she can’t fool you. April may say she’s a master and compartmentalization, but when she talks to you, every shoved down emotion rings through her voice.

You reach out to dislodge her finger from your forearm, because you can’t really think when she’s doing that.

“April, you haven’t talked to me in two years.”

April closes her eyes, rubbing her hands over her own arms, instead of yours. When she opens then, you take a deep breath to compose yourself – the green in them is brought out by her blazer, and you feel dizzy.

“You have a hickey. On your neck.” Your slap your hand over your neck in alarm – you had checked this morning! Your blouse covers the mark, except for a tiny sliver that peeks over the top button. Barely noticeable. Blair had been oblivious. No one _would_ notice, unless they were deliberately looking.

“Is that any of your business?” You bite out, playing with your blouse so that it might cover the mark, but it just slips back down. April’s eyes flash.

“Maybe not,” she bites out, and she pushes past you toward the door.

You somehow know what’s about to happen. Déjà vu, or something like that. Your heartrate skyrockets as you watch April click the lock to the door before turning back to you, and the primal hunger in her eyes makes you gulp.

She’s on you in an instant, lips harsh and demanding. Her hands are on your waist, trailing along the waistband of your skirt, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. She pulls back, just for a second, eyes blown, and licks her lips slowly.

You missed this so much you can’t think straight.

Her lips are back, demanding yours, and she pushes you back until your knees hit one of the couches. You fall unceremoniously, all coordination gone, and April maneuvers you until she’s hovering over you.

Two years. It took two years for her to break. But now she’s here, and her lips have started to trail down your jaw, her hands adeptly undoing the top buttons of your blouse. You keep making noises, you can’t stop yourself.

“Sterling, be _quiet_ ,” April grits out, but it only turns you on more. You reach for her, try to put your hands on her waist, but she pins both of them above your head with one hand. You whimper again – you haven’t felt this kind of heat in so long. At the noise, she slaps her other hand over your mouth and continues her trail down your jaw, toward your neck. She releases your hands so she can go down further, with a muttered command to keep them where they are.

April’s tongue finds the mark your girlfriend left, just below your collarbone. She drags her teeth over it and you moan into her hand, eyes rolling back into your head. She does it again, then traces it with her tongue, and you feel yourself combust internally.

April keeps going, down, then to the right, her mouth hovering over your heart. You’ve started to squirm and she presses her weight down on your core, trapping you with her legs, but that doesn’t help cool you down. She looks up at you, her eyes alight with desire and something else – then she bites down on your skin, _hard._

You know it’s going to leave a mark before she’s even really begun. You thrash slightly, but April has you pinned down, and her mouth doesn’t leave your skin as she continues with her mission. You let out a gasp when she releases and immediately begins to soothe the sore spot with her tongue, before finishing with a featherlight kiss that sends your head spiraling.

April sits up and takes her hand off your mouth to run her fingers over the hickey that’s already appearing. When you reach out for her, she doesn’t stop you, and you let your hands run over her arms, her neck, her hair, her face. Every part of her you’ve been wishing you could have. Her eyes never leave your chest.

“I’m sorry, Sterl. I guess I – I guess I lost my cool there,” she says softly, shame creeping into her voice. You smile to yourself.

“That’s all I’ve wanted you to do for the past two years.” April frowns.

“What, give you a hickey that puts your other one to shame?”

“No, April.” You lean in slightly, cradling her jaw in one hand. “I’ve wanted you to come back to me.” You kiss her then, gently, pleading silently with her to let this be more than just a jealousy-fueled one-time thing. She kisses you back, and you feel hope simmer in your chest.

“But you have – you have that girl,” April mutters after she breaks away. “And she holds your hand, and kisses you, and does everything that I can’t.”

“Honestly, I don’t want any of that if it’s not with you.”

April blinks at you, eyes big and vulnerable. “Then why – why are you with her?”

“You left. You said goodbye, and I never heard from you again. I wasn’t sure if I ever would.”

“Sterling. All I’ve ever wanted to do was to be with you.”

“I know that. But I didn’t think you did.” You lean in close, making sure April catches everything you say next. “You’re it for me, April. All you ever had to do was say the word and I’d be right here.”

The tears are shocking. They shouldn’t be, but April has never been casual when it comes to vulnerability. They slip down her face, and you wipe them away with your thumb, fingers grazing her jaw, and smile softly at the girl who finds it so hard to believe she can be loved.

“I am sorry, for that hickey,” April sniffles. “You’ll have to avoid your girlfriend for like, at least a week.”

“You know, I kind of think that might’ve been your goal,” you tease lightly, hands continuing to tracing April’s face. You’re still in shock that she’s _here_ , with you. “And you’re not listening. I want to be back with you. That’s what I’ve wanted for so long.”

“I’m not ready to come out.”

“I know.” April looks at you with surprise.

“And that’s not a deal breaker?”

“It never was. Sixteen year old me was too caught up on labels. Sixteen year old you thought it was a good idea to flirt with my ex boyfriend.” April laughs softly at the memory. “It was never supposed to be breakup. It was supposed to be a fight, that’s all. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” April whispers. “And eighteen year old me would do anything to have you back.”

You kiss her again, softly, and she breathes into you. It feels like coming home.

***

You think your girlfriend may have been expecting the breakup, she takes it so well.

You both know that you only ever dated out of circumstance. The only two gay kids at Willingham – of course you would end up together, even just for a few weeks. But you’re both looking for something else.

Your something else is unbelievably good at climbing through windows.

Having April in your room seems like a glimpse into a someday you know is coming, and coming soon.

You’re both graduating, in just a month. You’re both going to New England, and April has already voiced that she’s fine with being herself once she’s out of Georgia, out of her hometown, out of her parents’ house.

But for now, you pull her into a hug, to remind her that she is loved. And she lets you, she sinks into your embrace, and whispers quiet words of endearment you know she means with her entire heart.

And later, when you make a snarky remark about the homework she brought with her, she kisses you quiet - and in the midst of making you leave this Earth, she drags her lips up to your ear to whisper ‘ _mine_.’

You can’t argue with that. You’ve always kind of been hers, anyway. She’s got you – and you’ve got her. What else could you ever ask for?


End file.
